


Who Do You Trust, Who Do You Betray?

by intergalxtic



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid, Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid, Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers, Starship - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, F/F, F/M, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Guns, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I don't think this is as bad as it sounds, Knives, Minor Character Death, Secret Snape - SCC Gift Exchange, Slight NMT spoilers, Violence, inspired by SAF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intergalxtic/pseuds/intergalxtic
Summary: "We're running out of timeWe gotta stay aliveAll you gotta do is realise"
Relationships: Jemilla/Zazzalil (Firebringer), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 18





	1. The Coldest Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Epoch on Discord for secret snape](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Epoch+on+Discord+for+secret+snape).



Room four on the twenty-second floor of the thirty-sixth building on Henry Avenue. That’s where Jemilla was headed. She bounded down the street, almost like she was late, when she never was. When she reached the automatic doors, she slowed her pace to a calm walk. Scanning her ID, she went through her routine in her head, the same business as usual. Get in, make two coffees (one decaf), hand one to her partner Zazzalil, get morning updates from Cynthia. 

Zazzalil was there early, she noted, still walking to the coffee machine anyway. As it brewed, she tucked a stray hair from her ponytail behind her ear. Her hair was much too short for it, it didn’t stop her. She poured the two cups, humming a song as she skipped back to her desk.

“Hey!” Zazzalil perked up, jumping off where she sat and met Jemilla in the middle. Something was off about her smile, though. It was fearful, but Jemilla chose not to pry. Every time she did, it went south, fast. “Did you get home okay?”

“Yeah, I did.” Jemilla sighed, handing the steaming cup to her. The two had spent the last night at the bar, drinking but not drunk, into the night but not late. It was a little tradition between them. Jemilla had to leave earlier than normal, wanting a good night of sleep before their unit mission. “Are you nervous for today?”

“A-a little.” She stammered, scarfing down the decaf, immediately hopping to a conversation with Keeri across the room. Jemilla frowns. Zazzalil must’ve been frightened if she was jumpy like that. She tried to shrug it off, focus on her case files, but there was a little inkling in the back of her mind. An inkling that drew her attention away.

She had known Zazzalil for three years. Throughout that time, she had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions. Her initial dislike and frustration at her disorganisation and impulsivity. Her mistaking her caring and hurt for dislike, those feelings quickly turning into love, not the platonic kind. She hid behind a facade of stern yet loving, never wanting Zazzalil to hurt herself. At first, Zazzalil was opposed, she eased into it eventually. Jemilla knew she would never return those feelings, she accepted it. 

She was also working up to telling her.

Her pen lingered on the page, with nothing written when Cynthia clapped her hands. She snapped her head up, jolting to her feet and charging to the front of the crowd, who gathered around a whiteboard covered in evidence and suspects, one of which was the Deadliest Man Alive, their most wanted. They’d been working this case for over a year, finally they had tracked him and his  protégés , they could take him down. 

Jemilla listened intently as Cynthia went through the plan, she couldn’t keep herself from glancing at Zazzalil, who was biting her lip. Her arms crossed over chest. This was very unlike Zazzalil, usually so upbeat. This seemed to have been going on over the last week leading up, Jemilla noticed. She got grumpier and irritable, her paperwork had become sloppier, though Jemilla was the only one who realised. 

“Okay, are we clear?” Cynthia finished up, the room nodded their heads, mumbling in agreement. “Good. Gear up, we’re in for a long day.”

Jemilla turned on her heel, first out the door and down the stairs, the remainder followed suit. Zazzalil met her at the bottom, bulletproof vest in hand, ready to put in on. Another tradition they had (courtesy of Jemilla) was to secure each others’ vests, a way to make sure they don’t get hurt. 

“H-hey,” Zazzalil whispered, barely a hint of a grin. She pulled the safety gear over her head.

“I trust you, you know that?” Jemilla chuckled, tightening the straps.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She mumbled and helped Jemilla with hers. Before Jemilla could ask what she meant, she shuffled away. 

The same Zazzalil that laughed in the face of danger, never afraid of anything, was apparently scared of something. It was a strange look on her. She’s hiding something. She wasn’t a fully open book, but she shared willingly when given a little nudge here and there. This was different.They arrived at the scene with less than a word spoken, tension brewing, and suddenly Jemilla wasn’t just nervous for the takedown. 

Jemilla held a tight grip on her gun, and kept low with the rest of the group. They’d set up outside the back exit and had people entering from all sides. She was so caught up she didn’t notice Zazzalil slip away. 

“Okay, keep low, let’s head inside,” Jemilla whispered, gesturing for the others to follow suit. They snuck through the dark hallways of the warehouse, the wind was cold and howled loudly. When they reached a large metal door, Jemilla could hear light talking from inside.

One of her fellow spies, Emma Perkins, came to the door with a barrel to bust it open. She may be small, but she packed most of the muscles of her unit. They burst in, yelling to put their hands up, but something was wrong. Jemilla knew her hunch was correct when she heard a gunshot, not from any of the agents. Oh.  _ Oh. _

“Everybody get down! Take cover!” Jemilla shouted, ducking behind a pillar partway through the room. More gunshots rang out, and a few dropped to the floor with a cry. There aren’t many of them, only ten, each from different units who had come together to take down the DMA. They should’ve known the risks, really. 

Heavy breaths were heard as the gunshots died down. Jemilla scanned the room, three bodies lay on the floor. They weren’t dead, hopefully a chance to get to them to safety would arise. The DMA was talking to someone, angrily. 

“I’ll deal with you later,” He scolded, then cleared his throat. “You’re outnumbered, agents. So much for ‘secret’, eh?”

She scanned again, this time counting. Emma, Schwoopsie, Emberly, SB, Tom Houston, Taz, Tootsie Noodles. No Zazzalil. What?  _ Where is Zazzalil? _

“We could’ve gotten away cleanly if it wasn’t for your little friend.” 

_ Who? _

“Why don’t you come and see her? I won’t shoot,” He sneered. “Yet.”

Jemilla hesitated at first. Was this a risk worth taking? She took a deep breath, then turned around, stepping into vision. Her heart dropped to the floor, and her gun almost did because her hands had started shaking. Because there in front of her, was Zazzalil. 

“What… what’s this?” Jemilla stammered lowly, blinking in case she was seeing things.

“Yes, your little  _ friend _ is an imposter.” Fear froze Jemilla to the spot. She stared into Zazzalil’s eyes, but felt sick at the sight instead of comforted. That explains the patchy behaviour. “And now, I can escape without a trace, no thanks to her.” 

He grinned contemptuously, while staying perfectly still. Jemilla was afraid to look away, even for one second, in case he disappeared. Without diverting her attention, she shifted her vision to Zazzalil, noticing the knife pointed to her back. So she panicked. 

She aimed her gun at the man with the knife and shoots, hitting him square in the shoulder. He fell to the ground, the weapon clattered on the concrete floor. She watched Zazzalil untense slightly, breathe a sigh of relief. She couldn’t stay relaxed for long, because in a flash, the DMA was hastily climbing the ladder and leaping out the top window.

“Emma! Taz! Try and catch him. SB, Tom, arrest Zazzalil and take her back to Cynthia.” Jemilla sighed, then rushed to the side of Schwoopsie. The bullet luckily hadn’t gone through her vest, she hopes the same for Tootsie and Emberly. She remembered how painful it was when she was shot, she can imagine how they felt.

Placing her hand in Schwoopsie’s, she bit back a sob, unclear who for. “Don’t worry, you’ll be okay.”

Betrayed. That’s what she felt. A cocktail of hurt, sadness, and anger. Anger was the prominent one, she realised. She paced around outside Cynthia’s office, waiting for Susan to come and get her. Cynthia would no doubt be furious, Jemilla had realised. They didn’t even catch him. All the effort, for nothing. 

The door creaked open, Susan poked their head out. “You may come in now.”

“Thank you.” Jemilla smiles, preparing herself for a bombardment of swear words to be hurled her way. She’d heard it many, many times before. Instead Cynthia was deathly calm, almost as if walking on eggshells. Jemilla was confused to say the least.

“Sit down.” Cynthia demanded, Jemilla doing so straight away. “I think you know why I called you in here.”

“I do and I’m sorry.” Jemilla spluttered. Cynthia only rolled her eyes.

“That was a  _ colossal _ fuck up! Not only did the Deadliest Man Alive get away, but we got absolutely slaughtered while doing it!” Cynthia yelled, Jemilla flinched but she didn’t notice. “If it were different circumstances I wouldn’t give half a thought before firing you.”

“What?” That was Jemilla’s biggest fear. One of them. “What circumstances?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Cynthia’s voice had been relegated to a lower volume. “Zazzalil is to blame.”

At the mention of Zazzalil, Jemilla tensed. 

“And now she’s being taken away, for who knows how long.” Cynthia shoved a pencil in a mechanical sharpener. The whirring didn’t distract Jemilla. 

“Taken away? Where? Jail?” She quickly inquires, Cynthia only waved her hand dismissively.

“That’s confidential.” Before Jemilla could retort, she spoke up. “No further questions.”

Jemilla slumped back into the chair with a huff. This was so frustrating. Maybe she could just be better off forgetting this day ever happened, focus on the future. If only it was that easy.

“Look, I’m willing to give you a day off if you need it.” Cynthia says.

“I don’t.”

_ Just gotta push through it, right? _


	2. Two Years Later

Heels clicked on the linoleum floors of the agency building. The hallways weren’t nearly as bustling as they used to be, purely because people quit or were fired. With the job, you learn quickly the risks, and that not everyone makes it. Cynthia hadn’t hired anyone new yet, the case was too deep, too much information to hand to a newbie. 

She was feeling normal, had been for a while. It might have taken a while to get over Zazzalil, but she did it. Eventually.

Jemilla placed her clipboard down on her desk, slumping onto her comfy chair, running through the schedule in her head. Her eyes scanned across the bureau, smiling and nodding at Emma as she walked by. Then, next to Emberly was... Zazzalil? Her heart dropped to the floor. What? How? Why?

Her hair neater than before, ever-so-slightly more tamed than it was, a leather jacket draped over her shoulders. She leaned over Emberly’s desk, nodding intently at whatever she was saying. Jemilla couldn’t hear it, her ears were blocked by her flooded thoughts. Fury bubbled in the pit of her stomach, albeit not only at Zazzalil. In a fit of rage, she shot up and stormed straight up to Cynthia’s office, digging her nails into her palms. She barely waited for her blessing to come inside, and didn’t sit down. 

“What is Zazzalil doing here?” She seethed. If this were a cartoon, steam would be pouring from her ears.

“She’s come back, and was assigned to the case. Also she’s your partner again.” Cynthia said casually after swallowing a bite of a muffin. 

“What?! She’s a traitor, she… she…” Jemilla trailed off, the anger fizzled out into something more somber. She thought she was well and truly over this, whatever she had for Zazzalil. The love, the betrayal, how broken she was. “I can’t work with her.”

“Well, you are. Deal with it.”

Jemilla groaned and fell back into the chair, and squeezed the bridge of her nose. Her head is reeling with questions she doesn’t dare to ask. 

“You know Jemilla, I want you to have my job someday, I know you want it too.” Cynthia softened for a moment, Jemilla nodded. “But you have to stop acting this way.”

“I-I know,” She said in a low voice. She hadn’t noticed she had been  _ ‘acting this way’  _ previously. “Where did she even go? You never told me anything.”

“And I still won’t. It’s up to her to tell you.” 

“Why?”

“I have my reasons, and I don’t need to explain.” Cynthia dropped bluntly, Jemilla took a sharp breath in. “You have a briefing to do. Get onto it.”

“Right. Thanks.” Jemilla mumbled, heaving herself out of the seat and through the door. Preparing herself proved harder than she thought. Seeing Zazzalil was more impossible than she ever imagined.

During those two years, she tried everything to forget. She immersed herself in work, she helped out all her friends, she rarely focused on herself. She tried to hate Zazzalil, she truly did. Until it dawned on her that she’ll never be able to. Instead, she pushed those feelings down, so far she believed they would never resurface. She prayed they would never resurface. 

Putting on a brave face, she marched out, clapping to gain everyone’s attention. She hoped Cynthia gave Zazzalil a rundown, because there was no-way she was re-explaining the whole case for one person. 

“Okay. Let’s get to business. A new advancement was made overnight by Emberly...” She started off, the agents gave a small round of applause. “...Who arrested the Lords in Black and got rid of their plans and supplies to destroy Hatchetfield. Turns out, the Deadliest Man wasn’t working for them, only alongside. They don’t know of his whereabouts. But we do have suspicion that he is working with the Spaceclaws.”

“The tech department located his hit list, found the Overqueen of Bug City was right on the top.” Emma pins a document to the board. “The Spaceclaws, more specifically Junior have been targeting Bug City for years.”

“So, uh, how do we proceed?” Schwoopsie asked, her arms crossed across her chest. 

“I’m glad you asked!” Jemilla exclaimed enthusiastically. “We have the upper hand here, none of us have seen Junior in person. We can go undercover and weed some information out of him”

“Who’s gonna do that?” Emberly chimed in, and before Jemilla could suggest, she jumped in again. “Why not you and Zazzalil?”

“You two  _ are _ our best undercover agents.” Schwoopsie agreed. Jemilla was suddenly defensive.

“I-I don’t know. I mean, we need clearance from Cynthia, and it’s been a while since I’ve been under, I wouldn’t want to screw anything up-”

“We’ll do it.” Zazzalil interrupted Jemilla’s rambling. “We can do it.”

“Oh… okay.” Jemilla stammered. “Everyone take five, then we’ll form a plan.”

To be completely honest, she would’ve rather formed the plan right then and there. Get it out of the way, had more time to properly plan it out. However, Jemilla wasn’t in the mood for making a complete fool out of herself that day, so a break seemed like the best bet to regroup. Maybe the way to fight this was to pretend everything was normal. 

Soon enough, the break was over, and they were all back together.  _ Here goes nothing. _

Creating the plan went smoothly. It was straightforward, accounting for when things could’ve gone wrong. 

Jemilla stared at herself in the mirror, frowning at the sight. A teal, silky slip-dress with tiny straps clung to her, muchly different to her usual attire. She felt rather exposed, as the dress showed off most of her legs, the tall heels only enhancing that. She was used to pants, pleated skirts, not anything like this. 

She glanced over to Zazzalil, who was wearing something similar. Black, short, skin-tight: much suited to the club they were finding Junior in. She couldn’t help but subtly stare through the mirror at her, she still looked beautiful as before. She couldn’t think of a reason why she wouldn't be. 

“You look great,” Zazzalil looked up and smiled. It was a simple compliment, it made Jemilla choke on the air anyway. Like always.

“Thanks.” She said bluntly, lowering her gaze to the floor sheepishly.  _ Just act normal, it’s not hard. _ “You too.”

“I haven’t worn this kind of stuff in so long,” Zazzalil said, almost dreamily, checking herself out. “I will never again.”

Jemilla snorts. “Hmm, I think it might grow on me,”. She doesn’t think to ask where she was. Not the time. It was almost normal until the hollow pit in Jemilla’s stomach opened again, back at square one. Fuck.

It was eleven o’clock, and they were entering the club. Neon strobe lights form a contrast against the darkness of the room, almost blinding them. There were what appeared to be hundreds of people piling on the dancefloor, singing along to some incoherent song with deafening amounts of bass. Jemilla had taken Zazzalil’s hand and weaved her through the crowd, to the bar, where they would likely find their target. They managed to score two empty seats, where they could perch and scour the room. 

“Just two waters for now.” Jemilla asked the bartender, hoping that’s all Zazzalil would want. The bartender slid the bottles across the bench, Jemilla took it and guzzled half of it in one go. 

“Jesus, relax, would you?” Zazzalil made a face, a grimace. Jemilla was suddenly guilty, of what exactly?

“I’m sorry.” She muttered and screwed the cap back on. Her grip tightened around the bottle. Zazzalil couldn’t shut up for one minute if she tried. It was driving Jemilla up the wall. She listened to her likely nervous rambling as the two of them kept an eye out. 

“Is anyone sitting here?” A whiny voice came from behind Jemilla, she whipped around. Junior stood there, his face twisted after downing some whiskey. A blunt twirled in his hand.

“No,” Jemilla replied suavely. She’d found flirting with targets gets her where she wants. “Are you here alone?”

“Yeah.” Junior brang the blunt to his lips, inhaled deeply and spluttered. Jemilla chuckled but hid it well, she’d known Zazzalil to smoke before, and she never did that. “What about you?”

Jemilla froze when Zazzalil placed a hand low on her waist. “Trust me on this,” She whispered, and for some reason, Jemilla did. She melted into a smile. Change of plans, she supposed.

“Are you two a thing,” he sneered after some silence, eying Jemilla up and down.

“Yes,” Zazzalil replied straight away, placing her hand on Jemilla’s thigh, whose heart skipped a beat. “Partners in crime and otherwise.”

Jemilla would’ve given her shit for that pun, but she doesn’t have the mental strength, and too much is at stake. Regardless of the peculiar decision on Zazzalil’s behalf and her own annoyance, it was rather natural to pretend. Or pretend to pretend. 

“Crime, huh? Who’d’ve guessed.” He snorted and took another hit. 

“Oh, you’d find we’re full of surprises...” Jemilla trailed off, leaving a moment to ponder before asking her next question. “What’s your name?”

“Junior Spaceclaw. Maybe you’ve heard of me. Or maybe my dad-”

“I’ve heard of you!” Zazzalil butted in, earning her a surprised look from Junior. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Word is the Deadliest Man Alive is working for you.”

“Hah,” Junior laughed and Jemilla squinted. Dread filled her body. “I  _ wish _ he was working with us. Would make our job a heck of a lot easier.”

“He… isn’t?” Zazzalil bit her lip. Jemilla didn’t know what was going on, her entire train of thought was thrown off track.

“Yeah, I just said that.” Junior rolled his eyes. His starkness was infuriating. 

Jemilla snuck a glance at Zazzalil, who’s deep in thought. If he wasn’t working with Junior, that almost makes him twice as dangerous. The Spaceclaws were meticulous with their crime, opposite to the DMA, who had no remorse. With no-one holding him back, who knew what he was capable of. 

“I need to use the bathroom, come with me?” Zazzalil piped up, and winked at Jemilla mischievously. Her heart gave a flutter, she had to remind herself that it was all an act. 

“It was nice talking to you, I guess.” Junior coughed out some more smoke, turning to face the bar, sulking away.

Zazzalil grabbed hold of Jemilla’s hand, and marched into the hallway, halting outside the bathroom. They stood close, their noses almost touched, Jemilla’s breath was coming shorter. 

“They’ll leave us alone if they think we’re dating.” Zazzalil explained, and Jemilla’s heart sank but quickly recovered.  _ ‘You can’t keep acting like this,’ _ . “We need to make a plan, and fast.”

“I know, this is bad.” Jemilla said. In order to take him down, they’ll need a team, but seeing what happened last time… Hang on. “We’ll need to take this up with Cynthia, but I think I have an idea of what we can do.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, we need-” Jemilla is cut off by Zazzalil’s lips on hers. Her eyes widened with surprise, not only at the spontaneity. Her head whizzed when it was deepened, she was so enthralled, she forgot her surroundings and didn’t register the heavy footsteps beside them. 

It was over as soon as it began. Zazzalil jumped away, avoiding Jemilla’s gaze. “Sorry, I saw someone, uh, suspicious. Of us.” She stammered awkwardly. “Let’s discuss in the car.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Jemilla imitated her tone, a sorry attempt to hide her disappointment. An annoyance, defensiveness even arose, that she didn’t come up with the plan. She was supposed to be in charge? Zazzalil was yet to be deemed trustworthy, but in that moment, their fate was in her hands? She wanted to tell her off for being reckless, except she couldn’t deny that she did a good job… in more ways than one. God. She also couldn’t help but feel selfish, wanting Zazzalil for herself. She was almost at her breaking point, again.

Cynthia agreed to the plan relatively easily, seemingly placed her whole trust on the duo, something Jemilla thought unlikely. To follow through, proved harder than initially planned. She prayed nothing would go wrong, it couldn’t. She had organised it to the T. This would be a harder takedown than Andrew Kilgore. About a year before Deadliest Man Alive rose, there was another man. Jemilla had the lovely task of stopping his plans to infiltrate their system, and had killed him in the process. He had a partner too, Wilbur Cross, who vanished soon after. He was relatively harmless, or so it seemed.

“Hey Emma, can you head down to the lab and tell Paul to bring up the weapons?” Jemilla leant across the table. Her fingers strummed anxiously against the wood. 

“Gladly.” Emma finger-gunned at her, then slinkied off to the Lab. Getting Emma down to run errands around there was a lot easier than it used to be, thankfully. Jemilla was about to scoff down some coffee when there was a light tap on her shoulder.

“Jemilla? Can we talk?”


	3. Fatal Confessions

“Jemilla? Can we talk?” It was Zazzalil. Her eyebrows creased, more sincere-looking than she had been the two days she’d been back. 

“What is there to talk about?” Jemilla faked innocence, subconsciously balling her fist. The last thing she wanted to do was talk. 

“You know what.” Zazzalil grunted, snatching Jemilla’s wrist and dragging her down the stairs into the supply room. The walls were tall on grey, shelves stacked high. It was intimidating. 

“So?” Jemilla crossed her arms over her chest. She’d been dreading this. Or maybe waiting for it, she couldn’t tell. 

“I, uh… geez.” Zazzalil rubbed the back of her neck precariously. Jemilla could’ve given up right then and there, she didn’t want to. “I want you to trust me again.”

Her entire train of thought halted. A demand that had not been expected, uttered without grace or dignity, rather desperation. It screamed  _ pathetic _ , but Jemilla was always sympathetic, too much for her own good. There was a fire burning in her stomach, one that Zazzalil had started, rising from the coals that she thought had burnt out. It was unknown, but explosive, and she was scared of what she would do if she allowed it.

“What do you mean?” She shrugged pensively.

“Again, you know exactly what I mean.” Zazzalil let out a sigh. “Jesus, you’re just as stubborn as before.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that person I was partners with for years who  _ betrayed _ the entire agency and disappeared for two fucking years has suddenly returned from god-knows-where to work on the case with me!” Jemilla raised her voice, instantly guilty when Zazzalil jumped back. “You can see why I don’t trust you.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Jemilla flung her arms in the air as if to say she’d given up. Zazzalil narrowed her eyes.

“You blame me.” She looked angry, as angry as Jemilla was, who had no words to come back with. 

“What?” She said in a small voice.

“You think I betrayed you!” Zazzalil was holding back a fit of rage, she could tell. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jemilla snapped, an effort to keep her voice at a minimum. She tensed, she knew an argument was coming, and she wouldn’t be able to keep it at bay. “You were working with the fucking Deadliest Man Alive,  _ you _ gave us away, what else was I supposed to think?”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“Then who was it then?” Jemilla watched as Zazzalil’s face contorted from sadness into confusion, then curious.

“Do you know what actually happened that day?” She tilted her head, appearing to have cooled down. Jemilla lightly shook her head. “Not even a little bit?”

“No, I wasn’t told anything. At all.” She admitted. “Cynthia said it was up to you to tell me.”

“Jesus, uh.” Zazzalil frowned. Jemilla was puzzled. This wasn’t adding up; to many holes. “This might be a lot then.”

This didn’t sound good.

“I suppose I should start by saying that I’m innocent.” Zazzalil threw some jazz hands at a very unimpressed Jemilla. “Come on! I’ll explain in a sec.”

“Please do.”

“Well, basically, the Deadliest Man Alive kind of blackmailed me...” She trailed off, breathing in a shaky breath. Her demeanour had dropped, Jemilla’s came down with it. She’d become wary of Zazzalil, and was instantly concerned. “My family didn’t exactly have the prettiest history, and when he found it,”

Zazzalil paused to recollect herself, Jemilla found herself zoning out. She barely remembered her family, if she would even consider them to be. She was adopted when she was young, much too young to remember much life from beforehand. 

“I was lucky he didn’t kill them, they left the country a long time ago. The last I heard was that my father was dead. It was too dangerous to go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Anyway. I had to work with him or he risked exposing the entire agency, and killing everyone.” Zazzalil sniffed, and didn’t look up. “I still tricked him. I told him the wrong date of the raid, so you could get him. It backfired. When I explained to Cynthia what happened, instead of going to jail, I was put in witness protection.”

“What?” Unfiltered rage flowed through Jemilla’s veins at the words. She was so wrong before, but how could she have known? She was never told a single fucking thing.

“So when you guys got hold of the hitlist and I wasn’t on it, they deemed it safe enough for me to return.” Zazzalil concluded with a small nod and a sad smile “I went straight back in, better to get the awkward stuff out of the way I guess.”

Jemilla was barely listening. The fury and deep-seated hurt made her feel like she was underwater, drowning. “If you were in so much danger, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I… I asked Cynthia not to say anything.” Zazzall disclosed, holding her breath. Oh. “I know you, Jemilla. The second you would’ve found out, you’d be out to get him. You would have gotten yourself killed, he would’ve gotten away.”

“I feel bad, though.” That wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. “I blamed you for two years, for something out of your control.”

“I don’t blame you for blaming me. It’s like you said, you didn’t know.” Zazzalil stepped closer, touching her shoulder. It was a miracle Jemilla was able to keep her cool, especially after the kiss. They were so close, they could almost do it again, but Zazzalil jumped away. That’s okay though. Perfectly fine. “So. Can you catch me up on some of the gossip?”

“Oh, I don’t know if we have all that much, we’re very boring.” Jemilla laughed, a real laugh. It had been a while. 

“Come on, there’s gotta be something!”

“Well, Emma and the nerd down in the lab, Paul, are dating,” Jemilla offered, Zazzalil gasped. A light in her eye, one Jemilla had yet to see, illuminated with her smile.

“Good for them! I was wondering when that would happen, they’d obviously had a thing for each other a long time.” 

They talked for what seemed like forever. She was reminded how observant Zazzalil could be throughout the conversation, whether intentional or not. She had a casual approach to life compared to Jemilla. She hated the rules Cynthia had set, and had even gone against the code more than once. But they could rarely argue against her, because sometimes, she was right. Of course Jemilla took the lead most of the time, she didn’t always like how Zazzalil was so impulsive. Mostly it made her worried.

To Jemilla, they were two sides of the same coin; they wanted the same thing, they simply had different ideas on how to get there. At first they thought Cynthia was wrong to pair them together, they used to argue all the time until it clicked.

“So what went on in  _ your _ life while I was gone?” Zazzalil asked.  _ Oh boy. _ “Unless your life is that boring too.”

“Oh. Well, after you disappeared, I threw myself into work.” She shivered at the memory of the awful headspace she was in. She sank to the ground, gently tugging Zazzalil down with her. “After six months, Cynthia told me to take a week off, and that week turned into another six months.”

_ Exhausted was all she was. The team were working tirelessly to find information, but they could find nothing. There was no trace, no evidence, zip. In her normal nature, she took most of the work from the others, they all seemed content with it. But no-one noticed. No-one noticed her drowning. In fact, they were treading lightly around her. Avoiding her. Maybe they thought they were doing her a favour by giving her tasks and running away.  _

_ She only wanted someone to talk to, someone to be around, someone to fill Zazzalil’s shoes. But who was she to deny them? _

_ They never pushed questions beyond the simple “are you alright?” and Jemilla never gave them a straight answer. Well, she was okay, wasn’t she? If she looked fit enough to take all the extra work, surely she was? And everyone else was okay; why couldn’t she be? _

_ She soon came to realise she didn’t need them. She started pushing them away, redirecting their questions. Cynthia caught on quickly. She called Jemilla into her office one day, asked her to sit. _

_ “Me yelling at you isn’t going to get very far.” Cynthia had started with. An odd opening. “So I’m just going to tell you what to do.” _

_ She listened. She ended up staying with Molag the whole time, back in San Francisco, where she grew up. But she had to go back eventually. _

“I thought I had gotten over… all this.” Jemilla made a vague gesture, Zazzalil let out a dry laugh. “Apparently I hadn’t.”

“I’d say.” Zazzalil nodded, looking straight at Jemilla. Her eyes were wide and curious, a deep brown that was  _ oh _ so endearing. Jemilla’s heart pounded so hard against her ribcage, it hurt to breathe. She wondered if it was a sign, a sign that she should confess her feelings.

“Um, Zazzalil, I know that these last couple years have been hard, on both of us and…” Jemilla gulped. She wasn’t ready for this leap, but it’s now or never. “I realised I should have told you this back then.”

“Told me what?” Zazzalil’s eyebrows furrowed. She traced circles around the scar on Jemilla’s knee, sending chills down her spine. That day was hard to forget. All the more reason to tell her.

“I… I lo-”

“We’re going in twenty, you two get ready!” Emberly shouted at them, bounding right on past. Fucking hell.

Jemilla’s stomach churned. A strange mix of doubt and the dread that something will go wrong yet again. The vest was secured tighter than she’d ever had it, though she wasn’t sure it was the vest's fault. It was dark out, stars speckled the navy blue sky. She glanced at Zazzalil, who gave her a reassuring nod, regardless of the inelegant conversation they had.

The group tiptoed through the entrance and down the hallways. It was eerily similar, it didn’t help settle her frayed nerves. Jemilla readjusted her grip on the gun, resisting the urge to drum her fingers against the barrel. Her heart pounded so loudly, she thought the other’s could hear. As she approached the door, it only got worse. This  _ had _ to go the way she planned. Otherwise it could be fatal.

And it did. Or, it was. They took it cautiously; unlike last time. They reached the door, busted it open, slowly filed in. Jemilla’s stomach dropped when no-one was there. The warehouse was empty. 

It was as if they were in slow motion. People burst through the side entry, no shots heard. Only yelling, cries of horror. Jemilla was roughly grabbed by the elbows, and as she went to kick the man and jump free, a knife was held to her neck. She halted in her spot, her eyes going wide. The ruckus soon died, leaving the Deadliest Man Alive in the centre of attention.

“You never learn, do you?” He scorned, Jemilla scowled.

“Never learn what?” She hid her desperation behind her sass, cocking an eyebrow.

“That I’ll always be one step ahead of you.” He tutted. “Do you really think I was going to let you find me that easily? That I would be so careless as to leave my hit list out for the world to find?”

“What are you saying?” Zazzalil squeaked from beside Jemilla, being held back similarly to her. 

“You need me to explain it to you? No wonder you fell for it…” He mocked. Jemilla angrily narrowed her eyes. Her brain was spinning, trying to fit the colourless puzzle pieces together. Then...

“This was a set up.” She snapped her eyes away in defeat. She fell for his tricks like a fool.

“Aha, you do have some brains in that head!” He replied sarcastically. Her blood was boiling, tears stung her eyes. “But do you know why?”

“Why.” She growled. 

“You mustn’t recognise me.” He said. “Perhaps I should jog your memory…”

He disappeared through a set of doors to his right, then emerged in the same clothes, with a different face. The face of Wilbur Cross. A man she believed had disappeared.

“How ya doin’ Jemilla?” He squinted at her.

“You…” She trailed off, a million words at the tip of her tongue, yet none were spoken. 

“Thought I had vanished?” Wilbur chuckled. “No, not after what you did.”

“What I did?” Jemilla scoffed and shook her head. “You were the ones planning to infiltrate the other governments to destroy our city.”

“You don’t even know what you did wrong.” He frowned. “Well, if you must know, this,”

He spun around, pointing at the hostaged spies.

“Is all your fault.”

“My fault?” Then it fit. His partner.

“Oh yes. You doomed yourself! You can’t get away with only killing one of the criminals!”

She should’ve seen this coming.

“All I wanted was the plans! He was the one who shot me first!” She tried arguing. If the situation had been less dire, she would’ve smiled at the memory of the terrible aim. “Both of us.” She peered at Zazzalil, who had squeezed her eyes shut. “It was self defense!”

“Sure it was!” He barked, more aggressive than Jemilla had anticipated. She heard Zazzalil struggle beside her. “After that, I devised a way to get you back! You know, a little mental torture. Send you on the wrong tracks causing you to fail, making you turn on your ‘friend’, making you tear yourself inside out with guilt… among other things. You’re very easy to break.”

Jemilla’s heart shattered. She did this. Not just to herself, but to her coworkers. Zazzalil. All because she was weak. She’d never considered herself the bravest, but she thought she was stronger. She was the one who sent Zazzalil to isolation, not him.

“And before I kill you, is there anything you want to tell  _ her? _ ” He sneered. Jemilla fully rotated her head, observing the tears rolling down Zazzalil’s face. Why was she crying too?

“Um. Zazzalil, what I wanted to tell you before is… is that I love you. And not like a friend. I know we don’t always agree, but I need you.” Jemilla wept softly. “And I’m sorry if I ever doubted you, or made you feel any less than you are, because you were one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“I love you too.” Zazzalil whispered. “Which is why I’m doing this.”

In a flash, Zazzalil broke free from the man’s grasp, drew her gun and shot, the sound echoing through the large room. Wilbur Cross slumped to the floor, now lifeless. The grip on Jemilla’s arms loosened, and followed Zazzalil in escaping.

“Get out! All of you!” She shouted at the criminals. “Before we shoot you too!”

They hurriedly scampered out, the cowards. Jemilla puffed out, placing her hands in her pockets to hide the shaking. She ogled the dead body, winced at the blood spilling out of it. There was a hushed chatter among the agents. She wanted,  _ needed _ to talk, yet she had no words to say. Her eyes met Zazzalil’s, who gave a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Zazzalil chortled for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Yes-” Jemilla’s voice broke, sobs crashed over her body. She collapsed onto Zazzalil, wrapping her arms so tightly around her she could have exploded. 

“Woah, hey, it’s okay.”

“I’m so… sorry,” Jemilla hiccuped, burying her face into Zazzalil’s neck. 

“None of this is your fault, he is,  _ was _ a fucking bastard and you know it.” Zazzalil shushed her. “You don’t have to worry about him ever again. You’ve got me now.”

Relief spread through her like a flood, though far from fixed. She pulled slightly away, to wipe the remaining tears of Zazzalil’s flushed cheeks. She giggled, and pulled Jemilla’s hips closer by the loops of her jeans. Jemilla moved her arms to rest on Zazzalil’s shoulders, their foreheads touching. 

“I do, don’t I?” Jemilla hummed, happily. “Can I kiss you?”

Zazzalil didn’t reply, she just pressed her lips to Jemilla’s. It was light, only a little more than a peck, but it lingered for what felt like an eternity. It was more than what Jemilla had wanted for the longest time, to hold Zazzalil in her arms. She never wanted to let go.

It was far from perfect, they had a long way to go. They didn’t even know if Cynthia would approve of them both working together and being in a relationship. But they had each other, and that was the most important thing.


End file.
